


Putting Down my Pick up Lines

by Jmeelee



Series: SterekBingo 2019 [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Sterek Bingo 2019, The Hale Family (Teen Wolf) Lives, sbwildcard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 06:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18987493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmeelee/pseuds/Jmeelee
Summary: Derek doesn’t know who all these bad pickup lines are coming from…but he secretly enjoys it.





	Putting Down my Pick up Lines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvanesDust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvanesDust/gifts), [Faladrast (surfgirl1)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surfgirl1/gifts).



> For the Sterek Bingo 2019 Theme: Wild Card
> 
> A million years ago, [Evanesdust](https://evanesdust.tumblr.com/) sent me [this prompt,](https://jmeelee.tumblr.com/private/185070713167/tumblr_pjjp6nzHCR1w2qv68) Posted by Faladrast, and I've finally delivered. The summary was taken directly from the prompt. Thanks you for reading this over, Dori! <3

  
  


**1**

 

Cora’s twenty-first birthday party is in full swing when the vibration of an incoming text jiggles Derek’s right ass cheek. He pulls his phone from the pocket of his too-tight jeans to find a befuddling text:  _ There myst be sumething wrong w my eyes.   _

 

Derek’s future does  _ not _ include being an Alpha, and that’s fine; he’ll happily leave the politics, management, and difficult decision-making to his older sister, Laura. Instead, he’s been training the last few years—learning languages and studying cultures and meeting werewolves all over the world—to become his pack’s liaison. He’s young, but his good name and reputation are already circulating, so he automatically thinks,  _ this must be a young werewolf in need of help _ .  Plus, it’s no secret to the supernatural community that his beta-shifted eyes are blue, instead of gold.  

 

His thumb’s hovering over the touchscreen when a drunk girl bumps into him, her red solo cup full of cheap beer exploding like a water balloon all over the front of his olive-green henley.  “Oops,” she slurs, lids drooping over bloodshot blue eyes. She gropes his soaked pectorals with her bare hands. 

 

Derek’s eyebrows berate her before he heads for the staircase. He’s tired of pseudo-babysitting intoxicated college kids anyway.

 

By the time he’s showered off the stale booze and changed into pajamas, almost an hour has passed.  He grabs his phone off the nightstand to finally reply to his cryptic messenger, and finds a new text:  _ i can’t take them off of u _ .    

 

What the hell?  It wasn’t a cry for help at all; it was a lame pick up line. Derek’s mood sours as he imagines Cora egging one of her immature girlfriends into sending him the terrible come-on.  The culprit is probably downstairs right now. He swipes over the message, deleting it, and powers off his cell before climbing into bed, pulling a pillow over his head to drown out the noise. 

 

He’s so done with this day.     

  
  


**2**

 

A week and a half later Derek’s pushing a cart up and down the aisles at the grocery store when his phone chirps. He stares at the flashing number of the unknown contact, wondering why it looks vaguely familiar before he opens the text.  _ Did you invent the airplane? Because you seem Wright for me _ .  

 

At least there are no typos this time.  

 

He almost deletes the message right away, but the split second he hesitates gives him an excuse to type back.  _ This is clearly Gustave Whitehead erasure and I won’t stand for it _ . 

 

The return response comes before he can black out his screen.  _ Dude. Are we having our first fight? _

 

Derek doesn’t hesitate this time.  _ Find someone else to annoy. _

 

_ Rude. _

 

He puts his phone away and staunchly ignores the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

  
  


**3**

 

He’s already in bed, and would never have heard the vibration except for his supernatural hearing.  _ My name’s Microsoft. How about I crash at your place.   _

 

Derek blinks the sleep from his eyes enough to type back,  _ I own a Mac. _

 

In the morning, he sees the response.  _ Harsh dude. _

  
  


**4**

 

_ You must be a trumpet because you’re making me horny.   _

 

_ Wow. This is your worst one yet. _

 

_ Is that a challenge, Derek? _

 

_ NO! _

 

_ Did it hurt when you fell from the vending machine? Because you a snack! _

 

_ Please stop. _

 

**5**

 

“Derek, answer that or I’m going to punch you in the face,” Laura threatens between spoonfuls of cookie-dough ice cream. The harsh buzzing of his phone sounds like a jackhammer to their sensitive werewolf ears, and it’s disrupting their movie marathon.  

 

_ If you were a transformer, you’d be Optimus Fine. _ Oh lord.  

 

“What’s with the sappy smile, big brother?” Cora coos.  

 

Derek schools his face into a scowl. “Nothing.”

 

She throws the blanket off her lap and lunges for the phone in his hand. A tussle ensues. Derek is older and stronger, but she’s fast, sneaky and not above fighting dirty, and she grips the phone before he knows what happened. “What the hell is this?” She’s screeching with laughter, holding his cell out so Laura can look. “Who’s sending you lame pick-up lines?”

 

“Why don’t you tell me?” he gripes. “You put her up to this.”

 

Cora furrows her brow. “Uh, what?” 

 

“The night of your birthday party, the first pick-up line came through. It was someone at  _ your _ party. I figured you put her up to it as a joke.”

 

She checks the number again. “The only person I ever gave your number to was Erica, for official pack business. This isn’t Erica’s number.” She grabs her cell off the coffee table and punches in the digits. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Cora laughs so hard her eyes water.

 

“Who is she?” Laura asks.

 

“Not a  _ she _ .” Cora holds out her phone with a shit-eating grin so Derek and Laura can read her contacts. “It’s Stiles Stilinski.”

 

Terse silence follows her declaration. Then Derek asks, “Who the fuck is Stiles?”

  
  


**6 & 7**

 

“Forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one…” Derek counts out his squats in a whisper, monitoring his form in the full-length mirror. He feels his phone vibrate, and the grin reflecting back at him is disgusting. He should be ashamed.    

 

He gently places the weight back on the rack when he completes the set and digs the phone from his mesh shorts.  

 

_ Is your phone in your back pocket? Because that ass is calling me! _

 

Derek honestly can’t say what possesses him to turn around, open his camera app, and hold the phone over his left shoulder.  _ Perfect timing ur not following me r u? _ he writes back, attaching a photo of his butt. A dude doing kettlebell lunges across the gym gives him the stink eye.  

 

Stiles answers with a string of peach emojis, which Derek understands, and a single unicorn emoji, which he doesn’t.

 

_ I know who you are, btw. Stiles Stilinski, the sheriff's kid? Cora figured it out  _

 

Usually, the response comes immediately, but Derek’s walking out to his car before he receives two simultaneous replies. 

 

_ Well since the cat (be gr8ful i didn’t say pussy) is out of the bag _

 

_ my mother used to tell me to follow my dreams so… where will you be tonight? _

 

Derek sits behind the wheel, staring at his phone, weighing the pros and cons. He’s never gone on a blind date before, and he’s been burned, badly, in the past. Being single is sometimes lonely, but at least it’s  _ safe _ . He doesn’t want to put a defenseless, unwitting human in harm’s way. His brain keeps supplying him with a list of perfectly rational reasons why he should leave their playful correspondence in the sandbox of cyberspace, but his heart furtively whispers  _ what if _ .   

 

**8 & 9**

 

There’s a live band at the bar, guitar player crooning a popular rock ballad while Derek nurses a beer for show. He checks his smartwatch for the seventh time in a span of three minutes and happens to catch the message notification as it pops up.

 

_ Do you know CPR? You better learn because ur taking my breath away _

 

He spins around, searching for guys on their phones, frustrated to find almost every man in the bar staring at their screen. A baby-faced guy plops down on the open stool next to him as Derek’s eyes scan the crowd.  

 

“Scott bet me I wouldn’t be able to start a conversation with the most beautiful person in the room.” Derek glances back, startled, to find a generous mouth smiling at him. “What should we do with his money?”

 

His first thought:  _ HOT _ . His second thought:  _ young _ . “Tell me you’re twenty-one,” Derek greets him. “Actually, please tell me you’re legal.”

 

Stiles dramatically crosses his heart, eyes wide. “I only look seventeen, I promise. It’s a blessing and a curse.” He holds out a sturdy but slender, long-fingered hand. “I’m Stiles. It’s nice to officially meet you.”

 

Derek takes his outstretched hand in a firm grip and swears he feels a zing when their skin makes contact.  It’s official; he’s been single too long. “Derek. Let me buy you a drink, and you can tell me how you got my number in the first place.”

 

Stiles winks as Derek flags the bartender. “A gentleman never reveals his secrets.”

 

“Gentleman?” Derek, cold, fresh beer in hand, arches a brow. “Based on some of the texts I’ve received, I’m not sure  _ gentleman  _ is the correct term.”

 

Stiles clinks his drink against Derek’s. “Touché.” He eyes Derek over the lip of his brown bottle.  “So, did you lace your pilsner with wolfsbane, or do you enjoy the taste?”

 

Derek, mid-sip, spits his beer onto the bartop. “What the hell?” he sputters, mopping at the mess with the world’s least absorbent cocktail napkin.

 

Stiles calmly takes a sip. “Come on, dude. My father’s the sheriff, and this town is literally a supernatural shit-show. If that wasn’t enough, my best friend is Scott McCall.”    

 

“McCall?” Derek leans closer, soggy napkins forgotten, to whisper, “The True Alpha?” Derek’s met Scott at a few local pack gatherings.

 

“Yup,” Stiles replies. “He was bitten by a rogue werewolf when we were sixteen. So you could say I’ve been a little-” He makes exaggerated air quotes- “ _ involved _ in the supernatural scene the past few years.”

 

Derek leans back, accessing Stiles in a new light: deceptively lean physique, handsome, impish face, the ability to make Derek laugh, and take him by surprise. The laundry list of reasons  _ not  _ to do this quickly goes up in smoke in the face of being able to show his true nature to a partner.  Stiles smiles like he knows exactly what Derek is thinking.

 

“So, what do you say? Do I pass the test? Should we give going on an  _ official  _ first date a shot?”

 

“One condition,” Derek demands, holding up his index finger. “You’re not allowed to use a single pick up line all night.”

 

Stiles squawks, tossing long arms into the air. “You might as well ask me not to breathe! Or the Mets not to lose!”

 

“Chicken?” he asks, leaning into Stiles’ space.  Derek quirks a brow and lifts his chin, eyes drawn like a magnet to Stiles’ tongue when it sneaks out to wet his lips.

 

“Hell no. Challenge accepted. Eight pm Saturday night.” An impish grin. “I’m gonna date you so hard, Hale.”     

  
  


**10**

 

As far as (official) first dates go, it’s pretty damn amazing. The conversation flows as easily as the wine at dinner, and Stiles’ running jokes and commentary during the shitty movie doesn’t bother Derek at all. He’s thrilled to find their easy banter translates to real life, after weeks of electronic flirtation.   

 

“Hey,” Derek whispers as they say good-night at Stiles’ apartment door. He wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist, pulling him close. He brushes a kiss, feather-light, across Stiles’ mouth and smirks. “Are you a magician?  Because when I’m with you, everyone else disappears.”

 

Stiles leans back, arms still locked around Derek’s shoulders. “What the hell, man! You said no pick-up lines!”

 

Derek tuts. “I said  _ you  _ couldn’t use any. I never made the same promise.”

 

Stiles’ eyes narrow. “Serious question?”

 

“Shoot.”

 

“Will there be a second date?”

 

A second, a third, and more, if Derek has any say in the matter. “Absolutely.”   

 

Stiles’ grin is slightly manic as he untangles slim fingers from Derek’s hair. “Well then, there’s probably something I should show you.” He holds up a hand in front of Derek’s face and snaps his fingers. A spark of light fizzles to life before his eyes, emanating from Stiles’ palm, and burning ozone singes the fine hairs inside his nose.

 

“Huh,” Derek replies, dumbly. “I did not see that coming.”

 

Stiles’ coy smile ignites something hot inside him. “I have some other party tricks I could show you if you want to come in?”  

 

Derek leans forward again, chasing the bright glimmer of magic between them, the one that’s been there the whole time.  “Oh,  _ absolutely _ .” 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [Jamie!](https://jmeelee.tumblr.com/) Thank you for reading.


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